


South Park: The Stone of Lies

by PrinceOchibi



Series: Stone of Lies Series [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, LARPing, Multi, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), South Park: The Stick of Truth, Typical South Park Warnings Apply, Underage - Freeform, hope u like style cuz this is gonna mostly be style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:08:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceOchibi/pseuds/PrinceOchibi
Summary: Based off of an RP with a friend, in which the kids continue to LARP when they're older and improve upon the ideas of their younger selves with full-fledged character sheets and important decisions made by 20-sided dice. The new kids were tired of being kings because it didn't lead to anymore fun, so everyone decides to bring back the war between Kupa Keep and the Drow Elves.Amidst this war, Wizard King Cartman discovers an item that could change everything...or, 'God dammit Fatass why are you always so fucking OP?'





	1. Before the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Welcome to my first public South Park fic. I've been writing a lot back and forth w/ my friend who helped me come up with this idea, but it was my choice to finally try my hand at novelizing what we discussed. He also created Jay, one of the twin New Kids in this universe! 
> 
> I'm sorry if my characterizations are a little poorly-done...This is honestly a pretty self-indulgent work, so I'm not too concerned with it. But if it's not your cup of tea I understand! Even still, I hope if you do enjoy that you'll stick around and have some fun with these dumb, nerdy kids.

Saturday morning, June.

His alarm went off once at nine, but Kyle didn’t actually start moving until the second alarm at nine-thirty. Green eyes groggily blinked open, reaching across the expanse of his bed and fumbling blindly against the sheets until he found his phone, the source of the offending noise. One sleepy poke of his finger placed the alarm on ‘snooze,’ and he rolled over with a grunt to look up at his ceiling.

That hand then laid overtop his eyes, poorly shielding them. He took in a deep breath before letting it out in a slow exhale; Stan would be over by eleven so the two of them could discuss the upcoming game, and they’d be carting stuff to the campsite the neighborhood kids chose as that weekend’s setting.

The games were commonplace, both for the sake of kids like him who didn’t enjoy partying, and kids like Butters who probably could never party so long as his parents still breathed. He counted his lucky stars that his mother, protective and hawkish as she was known to be, still allowed for her eldest son to venture outside and play nerdy roleplaying games until nightfall every other Saturday.

_Buzz buzz. Buzz buzz._

The snooze alarm was much less obnoxious after he spent time awake, and he rolled onto his side to face it and tuck one hand under his cheek to gently support his head on the pillows, pulling his phone towards him and swiping the alarm off. _9:35,_ read the digital time on his lock screen, atop a picture of himself and Stan from the last time they picked up Dairy Queen after a winning football game; both of them with huge grins, chocolate on the corner of Stan’s lips and red, adrenaline-filled faces.

It was a good picture.

He unlocked his phone and checked Twitter briefly, noting that with it being a Saturday there weren’t a lot of updates so early in the morning, at least not from his classmates. He idled his time on other apps before he finally decided to move, pushing his phone away as he sat up and allowed the sheets to pool over his lap.

One hand ran through his red curls; while much more wild in his youth, Kyle had taken to keeping the look shorter while not shaving it completely. It was thicker now, more tightly curled towards his head, and on certain days he actually went outside without his ushanka.

Today might be one of those days, he surmised absentmindedly as he crawled out from bed and allowed his bare feet to hit the carpet of his floor. Kyle didn’t want to dawdle much longer; wet hair clung to his head weirdly, and he didn’t really want Stan to see him looking like a freshly-bathed dog.

Just thinking about the laugh Stan would let out, the way his blue eyes would twinkle in amusement while taking the sight of him in, caused Kyle’s heart to twist in an uncomfortable squeeze.

He knew he was in love with Stanley Marsh. It had probably been for awhile, but he only fully grasped that it was the _‘oh fuck this is **deep’**_ kind of love in their last year of middle school. He never said anything about it; not when Wendel came out as genderfluid, not when they and Stan broke up for good freshman year, and certainly not now. The idea of ruining their friendship was worse than any F- on a test or any loss to Cartman in a debate, so he’d never even try. 

He picked out the underclothes for his costume from his closet, a white tunic and brown pants along with some decidedly non-medieval underwear, and entered the bathroom before his thoughts could catch up with him again.

He needed to get ready.

___________________________________________________________________________

The setup took hours.

It was one of the rare weekends where they decided to pitch tents in the woods, finding those surroundings to be more authentic. Kids in many colorful costumes fluttered about in between trees and through dark underbrush, the summer sun beating down atop their heads as they designated spaces for armories and divided the land between elves and humans. 

Kupa Keep was more to the outskirts, closer to civilization, while the woods housed kids with fake elven ears. Bigger tents were used for the two castles, and in one of those larger tents Kyle stood with his homemade magic staff and paced around the tent. They had about ten minutes until play would start. 

Stan, looking rather dashing in his improved knight’s uniform, studied him with amusement. When he moved to lean against the tent flap, the sword on his hip bumped against his outer thigh. “Are you really that excited? We haven’t even come up with new plot ideas yet.”

“I’m not excited. I’m pretty damn anxious. I have a bad feeling.” It was a feeling he usually got whenever Eric Cartman was involved with something, and with the boy being on the opposing side he couldn’t help but let it consume him as his hands gripped and toyed with his staff. 

“Dude, it’s fine. I don’t think he’s gonna do anything stupid. Character-wise, though...Have you been thinking about it?”

In their group chat, everyone had spent a great deal of time trying to brainstorm new plotlines to follow. The mindless back and forth of war grew taxing; it was more a game of antagonistic fights, since the elves still held the Stick and the humans hadn’t succeeded in getting it back. 

“I’ve tried to,” Kyle admitted. “Mostly about like...Relationships, I guess. I talked to Ike about them.”

“Me too. Uh. Talked to Ike.” When Kyle gave him a befuddled look, Stan’s cheeks reddened and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, don’t listen to me. I talked to Ike about relationship things.”

“Oh...Is it about you and Wendylyn?” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, and he felt his phone vibrate to signal the five-minute warning before they had to hop into character. It wasn’t that their rules about roleplaying were strict, but they found it more fun to take it as seriously as possible. Kyle was one of the ones who held himself to their rules effortlessly. 

“Man, no way. Ike told me they’re planning this whole thing with Jay about a covert love affair between factions.”

“Then what’re you thinking?”

“...You can’t laugh at me.”

_A tough condition,_ Kyle wanted to reply sarcastically, but his usual sass fell limp on his tongue at the way Stan’s blue eyes were suddenly focused on him intently, looking him in the eye and making him wonder if they were always that deep a blue. 

“I was thinking that, well, considering how close Marshwalker is to the King, that maybe they--”

Stan’s phone began vibrating this time, from the gym bag he’d used to bring his costume to Kyle’s house. The sound snapped them out of whatever miniature moment was budding, and Kyle placed a hand over his heart while Stan hurried over and squatted down, providing the younger a quite pleasant view of his ass. 

One hand came up, adjusting the ornate plastic crown with the fake wooden antlers on his bush of red locks, and gripping the solid material helped him get a grasp on his own solid self. 

“It’s Kenny,” Stan called over his shoulder. “Said that a messenger’s coming this way and should be getting to us right on time.”

“A messenger?”

The other boy shrugged, rising back to a proper standing position as he picked up his broadsword, wider and more like an actual sword than it had ever been when they were small. “We’ll find out, man. I’ll uh...I’ll let you see what I meant in character.”

Kyle didn’t want it to drop so quickly, but before he could push Stan further a boy their age pushed through the tent flap, one without elven ears. He wore the insignia of Kupa Keep on his shirt, and Kyle pulled himself into his character while Stan-- no, Marshwalker-- held out his sword to stop the boy from approaching further. 

“Easy, Marshwalker. He does not hold a weapon.”

“I bear a message from the Wizard King,” the boy stuttered out.

“What made him decide to send a physical messenger and not a Twitter raven?” Marshwalker’s voice was accusatory, the sword raising and pressing just faintly against the messenger’s neck. “You better make this quick.”

King Kyle approached the two warily, his long robes flowing behind him in a scarlet trail. With one hand holding his battle staff, the other toyed with the strings that kept his hood together, their golden yellow color contrasting sharply to the paleness of his fingers. “Marshwalker, please. We do not act upon the same violence as the Wizard. Look, the boy’s trembling.”

Not that Kyle could blame him; in or out of character, Stan’s figure was impressive since he never stopped playing football, muscular and intimidating in his knight costume. His top was still sleeveless, and showed off more defined muscles in his arms and chest. His helmet was again plastic, but with more detailed decoration that had been hand-painted on a Sunday afternoon in his driveway with Kyle, who was painstakingly adding fake jewels from one of Shelly’s abandoned art kits to his crown. 

Now that he was close enough, Kyle could note how Marshwalker’s eyes narrowed, but regardless he lowered his blade and took one step back. He never did enjoy frightening others. 

The messenger, a little less on edge, locked eyes with Kyle. Absently, the redhead felt he knew this kid from one of his AP classes but couldn’t place his name. “Um--! This is it. The...The note. The Wizard King hopes that you will read it immediately while I’m still, uh-- In your presence?”

One eyebrow raised in curiosity, Kyle took the plain white envelope from him and opened it as neatly as possible, never one to crudely open them for the risk of ruining the letter inside. 

He would recognize the fatass’s handwriting anywhere. 

 

_Greetings Jew King._

_The war between our factions is still going strong. Neither of us has made any strong political moves in awhile, and neither side is giving in. You still have what I want, and I still don’t plan on letting you have it even as you ally yourself with Prince Kenny._

_That said, I do have something I want to offer. Send Marshwalker with this errand boy to the outskirts of your woods. He will retrieve my offering and give it to you thusly._

_If you say no, I charmed this boy to blow up the minute you tell him that. :)_

_Wizard King Eric Cartman_

Kyle resisted the urge he felt to roll his eyes at the last sentence. Instead, as in character as possible, he folded the letter and turned towards Marshwalker, gazing at him in silent appraisal to be sure he would be ready for the task.

“The Wizard King wants you to follow this messenger to the outskirts. He claims to have a gift. I’m not sure why he’s asking something so foolish, considering he knows your strength, but regardless...It’s his funeral, I suppose. Go with him.”

“Are you sure, my lord?” While his face stayed passive, Stan’s eyes said You’re gonna be so bored here, I won’t leave if you don’t want me to.

“I’m positive. I will stay with Sir Jamie and guard the Stick closely. I have an audience with Prince Kenny later on, anyways. Might as well wait where he’s most likely to show up first.”

His guard’s lip quirked upwards in the slightest hint of a smile before he nodded. He then made a surprising gesture and reached forward, taking King Kyle’s since freed hand and raising it to his lips to graze them across the back of it, a fluttering warmness across his skin.

“I will make haste and return swiftly, my king.”

The two were gone in the swish of Marshwalker’s dark blue cape, the flap of the tent falling shut behind them as Kyle’s hand remained frozen in midair.

Stan’s platonic show of reverence, as if it were some sort of enchantment, danced in a soft tingle upon the back of his hand until it found its way to his heart.


	2. Wisdom Stats are Total Ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sips iced water quietly.
> 
> It's been awhile...I've actually been more busy than I thought I'd be this semester so I just haven't had a lot of time to be writing this fic hehe. I hope this chapter's stupidity makes up for that. I'm not confident in how I write Cartman, or anyone really, but I feel that my Cartman writing is absolutely terrible but he's unfortunately crucial. 
> 
> Anyway! Please enjoy!

_**Earlier, before a certain letter’s delivery...** _

“Butters, I swear to fucking God--”

Leo scowled, his messy blond tufts of hair getting into his face despite the circlet he wore upon his head. Eric was irritated with him again, but it wasn’t Leo’s fault; neither of them had come up with any ideas for the campaign, and Eric was growing impatient. He hated being the weaker leader in comparison to Kyle, but it couldn’t be helped. Kyle’s side had the Stick, and Kyle’s side also had a lot of powerful players. 

Craig and Tweek stood to the side as well, glancing at each other warily. Leo wondered if the two of them would be heading off to LARP in private again like they usually did. Craig adjusted his cape in an awkward fidget, and Tweek twitched every now and again while his eyes anxiously followed Eric’s pacing.

“Alright, alright. We can think of something. Fuck, this war’s boring as balls right now. All we do is sit and sweat anymore. That Jew’s probably getting sick of the sitting around too.”

“Well, have ya tried talkin’ to him? I’m sure Kyle would help you--”

“We can’t get fucking help from the enemy, Butters.”

Tweek made a sound at that, drawing their attention as he nervously pinched at his bare arm, right where some of the blue war paint covered it in markings. “Can’t we just fucking-- Challenge him to a duel? Wouldn’t it be easier to challenge him so he’ll actually come out and all of us can fight?”

“Broflovski’s not stupid,” Craig reminded his boyfriend bluntly. “Stick or no Stick, he knows that’d be a pretty useless fight out of character, and in character the Elf King wouldn’t be so brash.”

“Nngh, I guess not-- Not unless Marshwalker was involved, huh?”

Leo knew exactly what Tweek was talking about, having picked up on Kyle’s genuine adoration for his super best friend, but he was surprised when he watched Eric’s face go from annoyed to deep in thought. The gears in his brain were turning, and as the sun beat down over their heads Leo felt a deep twinge of worry. 

“Butters.” Eric’s voice cut over the other conversation, and Leo snapped to attention. “What’s the opposite of a stick?”

Well, that was a mighty stupid question. As he pondered his answer, blue eyes raked across the landscape of their camp, from the blacksmith’s shop to the training grounds, examining wooden dummies with painted on red and white bullseye targets. On the opposite side of camp lay a small pond, surrounded by a number of rocks. 

“I dunno, Eric. Rocks, I guess?”

“Well, make it sound more...Cultured. What’s another good word for rock?”

“Um...A stone?”

Eric snapped his fingers, a grin creeping across his face and nearly splitting his cheeks in a diabolical expression. “And what’s the opposite of truth?”

That one was easy. “Lies.”

“There you have it. We’ll make it so our characters have discovered a stone...A Stone of Lies. An item equal in power to the Stick, but with the opposite intentions.”

Craig’s eyes rolled to the sky in exasperation. “Dude, are you fucking kidding me. Do you know how much canon that fucks with?”

“Th--The orc background Kenny worked so hard on is gonna be fucking ruined, Cartman! Don’t be a dick just so you can be overpowered again!”

“EY! I make the rules in this goddamn country, I can fucking find a Stone of Lies. BUTTERS! Send a Twitter raven to the baby Jew and talk over specifics of the Stone. I’ll go pick us out a nice new rock…”

And with a brief adjustment of his hat, Eric was off towards the woods, his footsteps quick and surprisingly eager. The other two, annoyed but knowing they would need to tell Jay of the development, left as well to track him down while Leo plopped onto the ground and pulled out his phone to get ahold of Ike Broflovski. 

_Oh hamburgers...Why do I feel like I’m makin’ such a big mistake with this?_

___________________________________________________________________

_**At the border between kingdoms**_

Marshwalker followed the messenger warily, his eyes constantly darting about the forest even once they exited the shelter of trees to reach the border. He always felt a sense of unease when separated from the Elf King, but this eerie feeling of dread only came about when the Wizard was involved. 

As instructed, Marshwalker came alone. The Wizard King stood flanked by Feldspar and Butters, one impassive while the other seemed to be fidgeting with some sort of object in his hands. The Wizard’s cloak was a dark velvet color, covering his red tunic and brown pants with ease and making him look as important as he felt. The pointed hat from childhood had to be replaced with one not as comical, and the darker blue and purer white of the star gave him a somewhat more sophisticated air than the asshole of youth. 

Though Marshwalker would still call him an asshole. 

“I see you followed my letter, Marshwalker.” The messenger was gone before Marshwalker could blink, but he didn’t move his hand towards his sword. For the moment, he would heed his king’s wishes to hear the wizard out. 

“What do you want from me? We are still caught within war.”

“But I believe the tides will soon be changing. It’s been a long time coming. Kupa Keep has struggled for too long against you oppressive elves, and it’s time we take back what is ours. For you see...The Stick of Truth is not the only orcish weapon in existence.”

“...What?” Stan actually wasn’t quite sure if he’d asked that in character or not, but he decided to leave it ambiguous as Cartman smirked. 

“There was a paired item. You know that old saying...Sticks and stones can break my bones? Well just like we have a Stick...There is also a Stone.”

Butters came forward then, and the Wizard snatched what appeared to be an ordinary rock from his hands and held it firmly in his fist. Brown eyes glistened with intensity, boring into Marshwalker’s as he thrust that fist forward. 

“And with this, I curse you!”

Stan brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes slowly closing. “Are you fucking kidding right now, dude?”

“That’s what I fucking said.” Craig’s voice wasn’t usually a welcome thing to hear, but Stan was glad he wasn’t the only one who found the idea to be completely shitty. “But Ike gave the okay and has it catalogued, so…”

“Fuck, even Ike was able to work it in? Jesus, fine, whatever.” Stan would never trust one of Cartman’s ideas, but he trusted Ike. He knew even if the fatass wanted an all-powerful weapon, it would still have its limitations. 

Cartman took out a red, 20-sided dice and held it in his gloved hand. He shook it while he spoke, the faintest rattle coming from him. 

“So the Stone does what the Stick does. I get a +10 addition to whatever I roll, and you have to do a wisdom save.”

“...Dude.” Marshwalker’s Wisdom stat was absolutely ass. Intelligence was no better, but he felt nothing but contempt for the stupid rule. Regardless, his took his own royal blue dice out of the pocket of his pants and gave it a gentle shake. 

Both of them rolled at the same time, and Stan felt his stomach plummet at the same speed as his dice as the two tumbled on the ground in front of them.

Cartman rolled a 5, and with the modifier that made it a 15. 

Stan rolled a 15, but because his Wisdom was so garbage he had to take some points off and it became a 12. 

“Motherfucker!” 

Cartman gave a loud whoop, picking up the dice as Stan did the same and grumbled the whole time he did so. Once they were both situated again, Cartman held the Stone out in front of him and went back to acting as the Wizard. 

“I curse you so that every time you speak to your beloved Elf King, you can only speak to him in lies. You can’t tell him the truth in any capacity. If you talk to someone else in his presence, you still lie. It’s only when you’re away from him that you can tell the truth.”

Stan wanted to reach forward and strangle Eric Cartman for all he was worth, but the dice rolls were fair. So instead of taking the regrettably fake sword and shoving it up Cartman’s ass, he followed the other boy’s direction as he pretended the curse was swimming down his body, shivering in discomfort while Cartman made idiotic “curse noises.”

“I hate you so fucking much, Fatass.”

“But at least now this game can be a little more interesting.”

As Cartman chuckled gleefully to himself, Stan could only wonder just how stupid he could actually be.


End file.
